4 May 2010 0 Comments

Greenland Whale Fisheries

‘Twas in eighteen hundred and forty six
In March, on the eighteenth day

We hoisted our colours to the top of the mast

And for Greenland sailed away, brave boys

And for Greenland sailed away.

The lookout on the cross-trees stood
With a spyglass in his hand
There’s a whale, there’s a whale
There’s a whalefish, he cried,
And she blows at every span, brave boys
She blows at every span.

The captain stood on the quarterdeck
And a fine old man was he
Overhaul! Overhaul!
Let your gib tackle fall
And launch your boats for sea, brave boys
And launch your boats for sea.

The boats were launched with the men aboard
And the whale was in full view
Resolv-ed was each seaman bold
To steer where the whalefish blew, brave boys
To steer where the whalefish blew.

We struck that whale, and the line played out
But she gave a flourish with her tale
The boat capsized and four men were drowned
And we never caught that whale, brave boys
And we never caught that whale.

To lose that whale, our captain said
It grieves my heart full sore
But, oh, to lose four gallant men
It grieves me ten times more, brave boys
It grieves me ten times more.

Now Greenland is an awful place

A place that’s never green

Full of ice and snow, where the whale fishes blow

And daylight’s is seldom seen brave boys

And daylight’s seldom seen.

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